Blood Brothers
by QuiteContrary1
Summary: Dean makes a mistake on a hunt, and his father and brother suffer because of it. When John is hurt and Sam is seriously injured, Dean takes dangerous measures to ensure that he does not screw up again. Contains some graphic imagery and language.
1. Chapter 1

_Friday, July 6, 1995, 2:10 A.M._

A tingling at the base of Dean's spine told him something was desperately wrong. As soon as he realized what the sensation was telling him, his father's voice brought him back to reality.

"Dean, where's Sammy?"

Dean's face paled immediately when he realized his little brother was gone. Jerking his head around trying to check out the entire area, he panicked when he couldn't find any trace of Sammy.

John saw his son's fear. "Damn it Dean, you were supposed to be watching him!" Raising his shotgun, he circled around, trying to find any indication of where his younger son might be.

"He said... he was... I told him to stay in the car..." Dean spoke to himself, his voice rising in fear. The panic was overwhelming.

Noticing his son's shock, John commanded, "Pull yourself together, Dean, we need to find him!" Of all hunts for Sam to go missing...

John had been hunting a spirit, leaving Sammy and Dean safely in the Impala. Usually he would let them help, but this time it was too dangerous for them and they were already worn out from a previous hunt two days before. He had been infuriated when Dean had followed him into the woods to give him more rock salt bullets. Sure, John had forgotten the extra bullets, but that was no excuse for Dean to leave his brother alone. He knew the sixteen-year-old wanted to be involved in the hunt and had been hoping that if he conveniently showed up next to John when he was hunting the spirit, that he would get in on the action. John only hoped Dean's willingness to hunt wouldn't cost them Sammy's life.

The man whose spirit they were hunting, Devon Hill, had been an infamous murderer. He attacked victims of all ages, races, and sexes and would torture and mutilate the bodies before killing the victim in Greene Grove Park. Nobody in the area doubted Hill's guilt, but no hard evidence could be found and he was let go. From his research John concluded that the father of a young boy murdered by Hill had killed him and buried the body in the park. A few months had passed since Hill's death when people began disappearing again from the same park where Hill had been taking people. The bodies were found in the same state as Hill's other victims. If Hill's spirit had taken Sammy... John didn't want to think about it.

Gun raised, John headed off towards the area where the other bodies had been found, praying his son had just wandered off for some insane reason. Dean followed closely behind him, not knowing the particulars of what Hill did to his victims. The last hunt had been a difficult one and John hadn't wanted to upset Dean with the gruesome details if it wasn't necessary. In hindsight, he probably should have. Then Dean would have known the seriousness of the situation and not shirked his duty to protect his brother.

"Sammy!" John yelled, praying to hear some sort of reaction from his son. It wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for.

A piercing scream echoed through the woods. The sound was undeniable; it was Sam. John started sprinting in the direction the first shriek had come from, with Dean following close behind him. As the screams continued, John's pace increased, and Dean began lagging behind. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he reached the clearing where the bodies had been found. He fired warning rounds to ward off the spirit, aiming into the ground to make sure Sammy wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. The spirit materialized in front of him with a jagged knife and, before John could react, sliced him across his chest, knocking him down and grinning maniacally. Laughing, the spirit disappeared, leaving John on the ground, bleeding.

Covering the wound with his left hand and holding the shotgun in his right, John called out again, "Sammy!" Hearing no answer, John pulled himself to his feet, using the shotgun as leverage. He was pretty sure Hill's spirit was gone, but he couldn't be too careful. Stumbling slightly, John regained his composure and continued in the direction he had heard Sam yelling from earlier.

"Dad!" Dean yelled as he finally reached the clearing.

"Find Sam!" was all John said. It took two minutes, two _hellish_ minutes, before John found Sam lying about ten yards outside the clearing.

Sammy was lying at an awkward angle on the ground. He was covered in blood, but he hadn't lost enough blood to lose consciousness. Red marks on the boy's throat indicated he'd been choked by the spirit to the point of unconsciousness. John let out a string of cuss words as he tried to assess the damage on his unresponsive son, kneeling down next to him. Picking up the small boy's wrist, John checked for a pulse. Terror overtook John when he couldn't feel anything, but the former marine forced himself to stay calm. He checked for a pulse again, moving his fingers slightly to the right, and let out a relieved breath when he was able to detect a faint but steady pulse.

Dean came up behind his father, gasping when he saw the state Sammy was in. Leaning against a nearby tree for support, he stared in shock at the bloody mess that was his younger brother. He began to back away slowly, unable to handle the horrific sight before him.

As John evaluated his younger son, making sure it would be safe to move him, he could hear Dean behind him as he began to vomit. _'Damn it Dean, control yourself! We don't have time for this now!'_ John didn't even attempt to speak to his son, though; his fury that Dean had allowed this to happen was so strong John wasn't sure what he would end up saying if he did open his mouth.

Deciding that lifting the boy would not cause any more damage than there already was, John pulled Sammy into his arms and began running back to the car, where the first aid kit had been left behind in the haste to find Sammy. Realizing his father was leaving, Dean gained enough composure to follow.

"Get the kit!" John ordered his eldest son. Dean grabbed it from the back of the car and opened it for his father, handing him a pair of scissors. John cut off Sammy's shirt to examine the damage the spirit had inflicted; John was relieved to see that the spirit had not had enough time to cause as much harm as it could have, but the jagged lacerations still looked serious. Most were a few inches long and from half an inch to an inch deep; they would need to be stitched shut. The steady blood flow made John wonder if any veins had been cut, but as long as no arteries were damaged he knew he would be able to take care of it himself. "Sammy? Sammy, I need you to wake up now. Come on Sammy, open your eyes," John encouraged quietly. Sammy began to stir as John applied pressure to the wound with a towel. John increased the pressure, hoping to stop the bleeding more quickly. Hopefully if he could get it under control in a short amount of time they would not have to worry about the effects of blood loss or having to do a transfusion.

As John increased the pressure, Sam's eyes flew open and he gasped, struggling to get away from whatever was holding him down.

"Sammy, calm down son, it's me. You're okay, just calm down." John coaxed, running a hand through Sammy's hair, hoping the contact would help settle the boy at least a little bit. It worked somewhat, as Sammy stopped trying to get away.

"Dad?" Sammy choked, his throat too sore to properly get the word out. He was still gasping, and John hoped hyperventilation wouldn't become a problem.

"Don't try to talk Sammy, your throat is hurt." The small boy's eyes were looking around frantically, trying to find any trace of the spirit. "Hill's spirit is gone, Sammy, you're safe now. You're going to be okay."

John's soothing words helped to calm Sammy to some extent, but he was still breathing too quickly for the nervous father to be comfortable with. "Son, I need you to calm down. You need to breathe with me, okay? Just concentrate on taking deep breaths."

"It hurts," Sammy whispered.

John nodded. He knew applying pressure to the wounds was causing his son pain and that his throat was probably burning, but he needed to stop the bleeding. "I know it hurts, Sammy, but you need to breathe through the pain. You're doing good, just keep going, you'll be fine."

"Is Dean okay?" Sammy managed to choke out.

John nodded. "Dean is fine, he's right here." Looking behind him to catch Dean's eye, John waved him over. Dean knelt next to Sammy's side, guilt tearing at him for allowing this to happen.

"It's going to be okay," Dean whispered, more to himself than to Sammy.

A few more minutes passed as John continued working on Sammy's injuries, using bandages and gauze to hold them over, at least until he got to a place where he could work effectively. Knowing there was not much else he could do in the dark, unsanitary woods, John lifted Sammy into his arms again.

"Get the door." John said to Dean, a little more harshly than he had intended to. He couldn't help himself from feeling anger at Dean for what had happened, even though he knew the blame did not all rest on him. Dean did as he was told silently, climbing into the Impala and moving over to the other side of the back seat. John placed Sammy on the seats next to Dean. "Keep him still and make sure he doesn't hurt himself. We're going back to Aaron's."

John got in the car and began speeding to his associate's house, the exact opposite direction he'd been hoping to head in once this hunt was over with.

Sammy was quiet, except for a few pained whimpers as the car went over bumps or through sharp turns. He tried to ignore the pain, for he knew both John and Dean had had worse injuries in their times hunting, but it was still hard for him. He knew that they weren't very far from Aaron's house. Once they got there it would be better.

Dean stayed silent, except for whispering a few encouraging words to Sammy when he could tell the pain was becoming worse. Guilt and remorse kept him quiet; he knew this was his fault. He'd made a mistake, and both Sammy and his dad had paid for it. John was ignoring his own injury to take care of Sammy, but Dean could tell by the way John was walking that the laceration wasn't insignificant. Because of him, both his brother and dad were suffering.

_'It's all my fault this happened.'_

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Author's note- So do you like the story so far? Please review and let me know what you think!

-Mary


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note- I'm so sorry this took so long to update, but I've been on vacation since Thursday and only got back today. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review, all the positive feedback has been great motivation to write. This chapter has less action than the one before it, but I felt that some background information needed to be given. I had meant for this to be a shorter chapter, but scenes I had meant to pretty much skim over somehow developed a life of their own. Well, enough of my ranting, here's chapter two! -Mary

_Three Days Earlier_

_Tuesday, July 3, 1995, 1:35 P.M._

"Boys, this is Aaron Nielson. These are my sons, Dean and Sammy."

Aaron held out his hand to the older of the two boys, offering a hospitable grin. Dean nodded politely as he shook Aaron's hand. Though he spoke to John Winchester often since meeting the man seven years before, he had never gotten the chance to meet the hunter's children. He was immediately impressed with what he saw; he could tell, even having just met them, that the two boys were strong, good kids.

Aaron Nielson, at age fifty-seven, had been a hunter all his life. He knew he was past his prime, but he would never show it. The man had a rough exterior, but once a person got to know him he put down a few of his defenses. Many things about him were apparent by just looking at him. His gray hair and beard indicated his age, but it was also clear that the man kept in shape. He was strong and muscular. Few people were on Aaron's bad side, but those who tried to mess with him were completely out of their league.

Accepting Aaron's handshake after his brother, Sammy offered an animated "Nice to meet you!" Aaron couldn't help but chuckle at Sammy's enthusiasm. The boy reminded Aaron of his own son.

The four people walked into Aaron's house. Aaron had called for help on an upcoming hunt. Once they were inside, John began speaking. "So, what is it about this hunt that makes you think you'll need help?"

"It's just a poltergeist. I'd normally be able to handle it on my own," Aaron began, "but a friend of mine, Peter Moore, have you heard of him?" hearing John's affirmative answer, Aaron continued, "was telling me about a new method to take the 'geist out. Problem is, Pete isn't exactly the most reliable source for information. I figured if I was going to try it out, I should probably have backup in case Pete's method falls through. Again."

John laughed quietly to himself. He'd heard of Peter Moore before, and the man was undeniably creative, if not a bit eccentric. "Mind if I bring the boys along? Dean especially has been itching to go up against a poltergeist and this seems like as good a time as any."

"Sure, we need to get some new blood into the trade, don't we?"

Dean and Sammy were used to older hunters trying to push them aside because of their age, so this man's eagerness to work with them made both of the boys like Aaron immediately. Hunting wasn't Sammy's favorite thing to do, but he still liked being accepted by his elders despite his age.

Aaron looked at John's boys, already noticing a change in their demeanors towards him. He was glad that they seemed to be letting their guard down around him, especially Dean. Sammy appeared to be the kind of child who opened up to others relatively quickly, despite the lifestyle that had been thrown on him, but Dean seemed like more of a loner. _'You're doing it again,'_ Aaron thought to himself, _'psychoanalyzing everyone. You need to stop that.'_ At one point Aaron had been dead set on becoming a psychiatrist and even majored in psychology for awhile, until he'd realized that he didn't like people, people didn't like him, and a job in accounting was much more "his thing".

Dean and Sammy were directed to do whatever they wanted, as long as they stayed out of the way of the two older men. Not having anything better to do, they went into the room where Aaron told them they would be staying. Dean tried to get some sleep after the long, uncomfortable drive, leaving Sammy to be bored out of his mind. Sammy listened to his portable CD player, putting in a Nirvana disc.

Downstairs, Aaron and John caught up on lost time over a few beers and worked out the particulars of the hunt. They decided they would stay there for the night and take care of the poltergeist the next day, Wednesday.

"Honestly, John, what's the hurry? The house is abandoned, and no one will be hurt if we put off the hunt until Thursday."

John shook his head. "There's a malevolent spirit about thirty miles from here that I want to take out. It can't wait an extra day, the thing is sadistic."

It surprised Aaron that there could be a malevolent spirit so close by that he knew nothing about. He usually was up to date on any supernatural beings nearby. He usually _took care of _any supernatural beings nearby. But then again, John always had seemed to be one step ahead of his fellow hunters. One thing was certain; whatever spirit John was after wouldn't be around much longer.

That night the four men went out to a restaurant to eat since none of them had any cooking abilities (except for Dean occasionally, but eating his food was still a health hazard). The next afternoon they headed out in Aaron's car to deal with the poltergeist. On the way to the house, Aaron went over the plan for the hunt.

"Pete says that if I circle the house with this..." Aaron held up a bad full of some kind of dust and dirt, "and say this incantation from inside the circle..." he gestured over to an open book, "then the 'geist should be taken care of."

"Well, Peter's an idiot." John answered.

"So when his plan fails," Aaron continued, "you three will finish the job."

"If this Peter guy is such an idiot, then why are we even trying his idea?" Sammy finally asked.

John was obviously annoyed at Sammy questioning the plan, but Aaron was impressed that the boy was willing to speak his mind to John. "Because dealing with poltergeists is a bitch," Aaron explained, "and if this method works, taking them out would be a hell of a lot easier. We might as well try it." Catching Sammy's eye in the rear view mirror, he finished, "and Peter Moore promised me a beer if the plan falls through."

Once they reached the house, Sammy and Dean poured the dust/dirt in a circle around the house. Aaron had his book out, ready to begin the incantation once they finished. The poltergeist, from inside the house, seemed to sense that something was going on and began throwing things around, though nothing could reach the four people outside the house.

When Aaron finished the incantation, the four waited. The house became silent. "Well I'll be damned," Aaron said to himself.

John shook his head. "You have to be kidding me. It's never that easy."

A huge bang sounded, followed by Aaron's sarcastic, "You just had to say it, didn't you?"

The poltergeist began throwing things around again, and Aaron, John and the boys grabbed their equipment and went inside. It was like walking into a hurricane. Everything was flying through the air, crashing into walls, other objects, and any unfortunate person who happened to be in its way.

"Damn it!" John yelled when an entire set of encyclopedias flew through the air towards him. He managed to dodge most of them, but X hit him in the gut and Z nailed him in the back of the knee, causing his leg to buckle.

Aaron dodged a few items flying towards him, shooting rock salt, attempting to weaken the poltergeist, while Dean and Sammy tried to distract it by running around and making themselves targets. In summary, the scene was complete and total chaos.

Accepting that the group was not prepared to handle the poltergeist's sudden burst of power, Aaron called for a retreat. "Pull back!" He yelled, and the Winchesters followed his order, even though John obviously wasn't pleased to be doing so.

The four regrouped outside. Dean, Sammy, and John were a little bruised, but no one had any serious injuries, and Aaron had managed to get out completely without a scratch. John turned to Aaron, irritated. "Why did we pull out? We had plenty of time to take the damn thing out..."

Raising his eyebrows, Aaron argued, "Come on Johnny, be reasonable. Whatever Moore told us to do must have strengthened the 'geist somehow, it was chaos in there. We aren't prepared to handle this, we'll come back tomorrow."

"No," John quickly interrupted, "This needs to be finished tonight."

"I know you have another hunt to move onto, but we need to wait. We aren't equipped to deal with this right now."

Finally, Aaron won the argument and the four went back to Aaron's house to get more guns and supplies. They decided to wait until the next day so nobody in the neighborhood would see them and become suspicious.

Thursday night the group went back to the house to try again. They had taken both Aaron and John's cars so John and his sons would be able to leave as soon as the hunt was finished. Upon entering, this time with more firepower, the four were immediately bombarded with objects that had been left all over the room from the night before. Aaron went about his typical methods of weakening and destroying the poltergeist while John, Dean and Sammy alternated between helping Aaron and distracting the poltergeist.

With a bright flash of light and some overdramatic shaking of the house, the poltergeist was gone and the foursome was alone in the old home.

Aaron sighed as a silence took over the room. "I swear, it's almost anticlimactic when those things die."

John chuckled, agreeing. He looked at his boys across the room, checking to make sure they hadn't been injured at all. After seeing that they both looked fine, he turned to Aaron. "We should probably be going," he began.

Aaron nodded, understanding. John Winchester never was one to stay in the same place for a long time. "Well I hope I'll be seeing you again soon," he answered, knowing it was unlikely. Aaron turned to Dean and Sammy, shaking their hands once again. "And that goes for both of you, also. And I know how stubborn he can be," Aaron said, nodding his head towards John, who raised his eyebrows in response. "So I'll need you two to annoy him until he agrees to come back, alright?"

"I can do that!" Sammy responded, only half joking. He had become quite talented when it came to annoying his father. John opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it.

"I'm sure you can," Aaron agreed. He turned back to John, shaking his hand. "It's been good seeing you, John," Aaron said.

"Good seeing you too," John responded.

With that the Winchesters left, leaving Aaron at the once-haunted house. He climbed back into his car, knowing he probably wouldn't be seeing the family again anytime soon.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Friday, July 6, 1995, 2:53 A.M._

John banged on the door to Aaron's house, holding Sammy in his arms. Sammy had lost consciousness about five minutes before they reached the house, probably from shock due to the blood loss.

Aaron opened the door and was immediately taken aback by the bloody sight before him, but he quickly shoved his thoughts aside and pulled the door farther open. "Come on," he said, leading the way to his house's study, which he had transformed into a makeshift operation room. Clearing room on the crude operation table, he instructed John, "Lay him here." Aaron had been in the marines at the same time John had been enlisted, though the two never crossed paths until they began hunting. Though the marines did not train their own medical personnel, (combat medics were usually a part of the army or navy) Aaron had always specialized in medical treatment. Because of his medical experience, it was not uncommon for injured hunters to seek him out when a hunt went wrong and an emergency room visit would have resulted in too many questions.

Aaron began checking over Sammy, while John and Dean waited anxiously beside him. "What happened?" he asked, growing weary of the two hanging over him and hoping a distraction would divert their attention somewhat.

"Spirit got him," John said simply. After a pause he added, "This shouldn't have happened." He was still pissed at Dean, even though he knew he shouldn't have been.

Aaron noticed how Dean visibly tensed beside him and decided not to pursue the comment, though he still needed to know what had happened. "I'm gonna need a little more than that."

Calming himself down, John began, "The spirit was able to grab him. I'm not sure exactly what happened."

Aaron nodded, knowing it wasn't likely he'd get anything else out of his friend. John was too distracted and too worried. He also saw how Dean flinched when John spoke of the spirit getting a hold of Sam.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Aaron deduced, trying to speak calmly so the two would not panic, "and his body's gone into shock." Aaron waited to see John and Dean's reactions but continued before either had a chance to interrupt. "What's his blood type?"

"A negative," John and Dean answered.

_'Of course, he has a rare one'_, Aaron thought to himself. "He'll need a transfusion."

"I can do it, we're the same type." Dean quickly said. John nodded his agreement.

Aaron looked Dean over, trying to figure out if he'd be able to get enough blood from the child to make a difference. "Alright." He began preparing for the procedure, hoping he still had time before the effects of shock became too much on the small boy.

Dean let out a breath of relief that he hadn't known he was holding. He was thankful there was something he could do to help Sammy, especially since the entire episode had been his fault to begin with. 'He'll be okay, he'll be okay,' Dean kept telling himself, but a voice in his head that sounded just like his father kept telling him the same thing.

_'This is all your fault.'_

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note- Here's chapter two! Please review and let me know what you think! I'm not as happy with it as I was with the first chapter, but the next one is coming up and I promise it will be better! Special thanks to my friend Lindsay, my amazing beta.

Also, here's a shout out for H.T. Marie, who explained how to upload chapters when Document Manager isn't working. These are the instructions on what to do-

Log In

Go to a story you already have uploaded, click edit, then, Content/Chapters. Then pick any random chapter and hit Exp, to export it to the document manager.

Once it's in document manager, Highlight the content and cut it out. This will not hurt the story you took the chapter from, because the original version of the chapter is still posted, and once it's in document manager you can use it for anything and even change the name to anything. Save the changes.

Paste in the content you want to upload. You'll have to manually add bold face and italics.

Then go to edit for the story you're trying to upload, click edit/chapters, go to Add Chapter...Do NOT hit replace chapter, and add the newly created chapter just like you would if you'd loaded it from your Comp.

You can also try saving your file as a .txt file and uploading that. Again, you'll have to add the boldface and italics manually.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed! I'm sorry it took so long to update, but life's been pretty hectic and updating has been pretty much impossible. I'm sorry, and I hope this chapter can make up for it! Also, Lindsay wasn't able to beta the chapter yet, so it will be reposted in the near future with any corrections it needs. -Mary

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_"Because you're gonna protect me, right?" 5-year-old Sammy asked. It tore at Dean's heart, the complete and total trust his younger brother held in him. But, it didn't matter, because no matter what happened, Dean would protect Sammy. He would always be there for him._

_"Of course I will. Anything that tries to get to you will have to get through me first." Dean knew that _that_ would always be true._

_"You promise?" Sammy asked hopefully._

_Dean smiled, putting his arm around Sammy and pulling him closer in the bed they were sharing in a random hotel room in between hunts. "Yeah, I promise."_

_Suddenly, the trust left Sammy's eyes and was replaced with doubt. "Are you sure?" he demanded. In the dream, Sammy became older, transforming into his current 12-year-old self. Now the doubt became anger. "Because last time I checked, you let a psychotic spirit get the drop on me and almost kill me. Some protector you are."_

_Dean's face paled. "Sammy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean..."_

_"What? You didn't mean to abandon me? You didn't mean to almost get me killed? You didn't mean to go back on the promise you made me seven years ago?"_

_Dean didn't know how to respond. He just stared at his younger brother, watching his eyes change as his anger turned to disappointment, and hurt. "I swear, Sammy, I would never..."_

_"But you did." _

_Then the words of an overhead voice took over the dream. WAKE UP._

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Friday, July 6, 1995, 9:54 A.M._

A voice brought Dean back to reality. He jerked up into a sitting position and almost fell off the couch to the floor, but two strong arms stopped him.

Dean looked up and saw Aaron. "You okay, kid?" Aaron asked.

Dean just nodded in response. He looked around, realizing he was on the couch in Aaron's living room. Dean inwardly cursed at himself for falling asleep. Sammy needed him. _'No he doesn't,' _Dean realized. _'He probably doesn't even want to look at me right now.'_

"Well Sammy just woke up, and he's asking for you." Aaron saw the confusion and doubt that flashed across Dean's face before he had a chance to hide it. "Your dad and I moved him into my son's old room. I'll show you where it is." After a second of consideration, he added, "He's pretty anxious to see you." From Aaron's time in the marines he knew how to tell if someone was shouldering guilt after a traumatic event; from what he could see, Dean was a textbook example.

Dean nodded, standing up from the couch and following the older man. "This isn't your fault, you know," Aaron said as he led Dean up the stairwell.

"What?" Dean looked up, surprised, and met Aaron's eyes.

"Shit happens. You can't protect everybody from everything."

When Dean didn't answer, Aaron just kept walking. This was why he never really got into the psychology thing. No matter how reasonable something sounded in his head, once Aaron actually said it out loud it always ended up sounding cliché and stupid. "Sammy and your dad are in here," Aaron said, leaving Dean to be alone with his family.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the door slowly closed, Sam and John both turned their heads towards the source of the noise.

"Dean," Sammy quietly said, his throat still sore from the encounter with Hill's spirit.

"Yeah, I'm here." Dean quickly made his way to Sam's side and placed his hand on the younger boy's elbow; enough to offer a physical connection without acting too affectionate. John was sitting in a folding chair on the other side of Sam's bed, standing guard over the son he could have lost.

"Are you okay?" Sammy asked as soon as Dean has reached his side.

Dean couldn't help smiling. "I think I'm the one who is supposed to be asking you that, kiddo." Sammy offered him a small grin in return, but Dean could tell that he had forced it.

Sammy still looked pale, though not as bad as he had been before. A few bruises stood out against the pallor of his face. He looked dead tired, as if he could fall asleep any second, and Dean had no doubt that the small boy would be asleep again within the next few minutes. He still had an IV in his arm, attached to a bag of blood. A bag of Dean's blood flowing, very slowly, into Sammy's veins. Finally, Dean asked, "Well, _are_ you okay?"

John snorted. "Well, considering the circumstances, I would say he's doing great." John had meant it as a retort to ease the tension in the room a little, but he had not expected the reaction he got from his older son.

Dean's face paled instantaneously, and he visibly flinched at the words. Sammy didn't notice the reaction, but John definitely did. "Dean," John said, "I'm serious. Sammy's going to be fine. As soon as his blood pressure becomes a little higher and all the chances of infections are eliminated, he'll be good as new." All he received in return was a nod from Dean, who still kept his head down, and a yawn from Sam.

Sammy began to try to pull himself into a sitting position, but he was immediately bombarded by an intense headache. He gasped, pulling his hand to his forehead. "What is it?" Dean asked quickly as John looked over Sammy, trying to check for any injuries that he and Aaron could have missed the first time around.

"I don't... it's... it's just a headache," Sammy answered, hating having his family so worried and fussing over him. After he had lain back down, most of the pain from the headache had been alleviated.

"You're sure?" Dean asked, still worried. Sammy nodded.

John ran his hand through Sammy's hair, saying, "Son, how about you try and get some sleep? You need to rest." Sammy nodded, and he was out almost immediately.

The two older Winchesters stayed on both sides of Sammy's bed, not speaking. Both watched the young boy as he slept.

"Are you sure he's going to be okay?" Dean finally asked.

"Of course he is," John answered quickly. "He just needs some downtime to recover, but he'll be fine."

Though he was grateful to hear the words in private, when he knew their father wasn't just saying them to keep Sammy from worrying, Dean couldn't help but to nervous. Sammy would get over the physical wounds, but would he be able to get past being let down by his older brother? The older brother who had promised, who had _sworn_, that he would always protect him? Dean was afraid that after becoming such a huge disappointment, a let down to his family, Sammy would not be able to forgive him. If that would happen, Dean did not know what he would do. "Then why isn't his blood pressure normal yet? Shouldn't he have gotten enough by now? It's been almost seven hours since we started. That can't mean..."

"Dean," John interrupted, hoping he would be able to calm his son down and not upset him, "listen to me. It's normal. Blood transfusions are supposed to be done slowly. When we started we were trying to get blood into him quickly to make up for what he had lost, and now that he's closer to normal levels we've slowed it down."

"John," Aaron peeked his head through the door, not wanting to invade the family's privacy. "There's a call for you." Noticing John's hesitation, Aaron added, "The phone is downstairs, or I can tell him that you'll call him back."

Standing up from his place beside Sam's bed, John said, "No, I'll get it." He followed Aaron out of the room, leaving Dean alone with Sammy.

"It's Pete," Aaron said, handing over the phone. "I've already told him how full of shit he is, but hearing it from someone else would probably help it sink in somewhat."

John grinned, putting the phone to his ear. "You are so full of shit, Moore, you know that?" The men spoke about possibly meeting up for a hunt in the near future, and the two joked back and forth throughout the conversation, which ended with Peter offering his sympathy over what had happened to Sam. John thanked the man, but was alarmed that word had gotten around so quickly about the screw up.

As if sensing the man's uneasiness, Peter added, "Don't worry, Winchester, Aaron was just filling me in on why you guys are still hanging around there. Word isn't out, and your rep is safe, so you don't need to worry about your goddamn pride being damaged." John laughed, speaking with Peter for another minute before ending the conversation.

"Have you talked to Dean at all?"

Turning around to face his old friend, John asked, "What do you mean?"

The former marine nodded upstairs towards his son's old bedroom. "He's nervous around you. I think he blames himself for what happened last night." Aaron had wanted to point out that Dean believed John also blamed him, but he didn't need John becoming defensive and possibly even taking off with the boys while Sammy still needed help.

John rubbed his eyes with his hand, with the stress of the night getting to him. "I don't need to talk to him. He knows he messed up. It isn't going to happen again, Dean doesn't make the same mistake twice." The underlying message wasn't spoken, but Aaron heard it loud and clear. 'Don't tell me how to raise my children.'

Aaron didn't know how to respond. John obviously couldn't see how upset Dean was, but Aaron didn't know what to do about it. _'I'll give it a day,'_ he decided. _'I'll wait and see if things calm down now that all the excitement had ended.'_ "Fine, then," Aaron said. "Now let me check out your injury again, Sammy's not the only one running a risk of infection."

"I already took care of it," John protested, but Aaron ignored him.

"Sticking some gauze and tape on a laceration is hardly taking care of it. Dean's with Sammy, he's alright for now. I'm sure they'll call you if they need you, now stop being stubborn. You probably need stitches and the wound is probably already filled with dirt, maggots, and whatever else you Winchesters get into."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Upstairs in Sammy's room, Dean watched over his younger brother. He was trying to keep his game face on, especially since he knew either his dad or Aaron could walk in at any moment, but he was losing the fight. Knowing that he had caused Sammy to suffer like this was killing Dean, and he didn't know how to fix it.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. A tear fell, and before he knew it, Dean was holding on to Sammy's limp hand, sobbing. This was his fault. Sammy had suffered because of him. He had lost his dad's trust, and he had almost lost his little brother his life. "I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered before he stood up, forcing himself away from his brother and running into the hallway to the nearest bathroom. It was full of hardware; apparently Aaron had been renovating the small room.

Dean stood in front of the mirror, wanting to hit his reflection but not wanting to bring attention to himself. He had to get away. He had to do something. He didn't deserve this family and he had no right to cause them pain.

Needing to do something, to move, Dean slammed his hand down on the counter, but the sharp wooden edge sliced his skin as he hit it.

Dean stared at the blood for a second. His hand hurt, hurt like Sammy was hurting, like his dad was hurting. Dean began to shake. He had caused this mess. It was his job to fix it, but there was nothing he could fix. That was his fault.

He had wanted his dad to show anger towards him, to scream at him even, but he never did. It was like there was no consequence to Dean's complete screw up. Why didn't his father just smack him across the face and tell him what a disgrace he was? That would be better than nothing. But, his father didn't do any of these things, and Dean didn't know what to do.

He had to do something.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note- I hope everyone liked the chapter, and the next one should be up much more quickly, I promise! Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far, all comments are hugely appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note- I apologize again for taking so long to update, and I can go through a list of excuses about my lateness, but instead of taking up your time I'll just say that it has been hard for me to get this chapter typed and I truly will try harder in the future. -Mary

Disclaimer- I've forgotten about this so far in this story, so I'll just through it out there now. I do not own anything and I am not making any profit whatsoever by writing this story.

_Dean stood in front of the mirror, wanting to hit his reflection but not wanting to bring attention to himself. He had to get away. He had to do something. He didn't deserve this family and he had no right to cause them pain._

_Needing to do something, to move, Dean slammed his hand down on the counter, but the sharp wooden edge sliced his skin as he hit it._

_Dean stared at the blood for a second. His hand hurt, hurt like Sammy was hurting, like his dad was hurting. Dean began to shake. He had caused this mess. It was his job to fix it, but there was nothing he could fix. That was his fault._

_He had wanted his dad to show anger towards him, to scream at him even, but he never did. It was like there was no consequence to Dean's complete screw up. Why didn't his father just smack him across the face and tell him what a disgrace he was? That would be better than nothing. But, his father didn't do any of these things, and Dean didn't know what to do._

_He had to do something._

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Friday, July 6, 1995, 10:33 A.M._

Dean wasn't perfect; he knew that. He didn't expect to be or try to be perfect. Perfection was a myth, a figment of the imagination that set an unreachable and impossible expectation.

Dean had made mistakes before, and a majority of these mistakes had been made during or surrounding a hunt. With these mistakes came retribution; some kind of reminder that demanded, _'You will not do this again'_. Usually when Dean messed up he somehow ended up getting hurt. If he managed to make it out unscathed, his father's safety lectures and extra practice were punishment enough.

_Consequences._

It was almost comforting; Dean had made his mistake, so he deserved to be suffering for it.

This is what he told himself as he grabbed a box cutter from the edge of the sink, dragging it down the underside of his arm and watching the crimson blood seep from the self-inflicted wound.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Take these."

Without question John dry swallowed the two pills his friend had handed them, then as an afterthought took a drink from the water bottle that Nielson was offering to him.

"Keep taking those and if you're lucky you won't have to deal with an infection," Aaron advised. Before John had an opportunity to speak, his friend added, "and no, those meds do not mix well with alcohol. Don't ask."

John couldn't help but grin as he defended himself. "Give me a little credit here, Nielson."

"Fine, fine." Aaron held up his hands in defeat, a mild smirk remaining on his face. It was amazing how the two friends could fall back into the amicable bantering and old habits they had always had. Time and circumstances often kept them from enjoying each other's company, but they made the best of their friendship when they could.

John abruptly stood up. "I'm going to check on the boys again."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John quietly pushed the door open to the room in which Sam was staying. He saw his younger son lying, still asleep on the bed. Dean was sitting in the chair next to him, standing guard over his brother once again.

"How's he doing?"

The sudden noise caused Dean to jump and turn towards the source of the noise. After seeing that it was only their father, Dean visibly relaxed and turned his attention towards his younger brother. "Same as before." Dean's arms were folded, held tightly to his stomach.

John nodded, but was made wary by Dean's jumpiness. It was unusual for anybody to be able to sneak up on the teenager. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Dean answered quickly.

John wanted to push farther; his son had answered too quickly, and John could spot a lie faster than practically anyone. _'Drop it,'_ John told himself. _'He's stressed out, he's worried, and he probably didn't sleep well last night. He'll be fine.'_ Instead John took a seat in the folding chair next to Dean, who couldn't help fidgeting a little as his father sat down next to him.

"You sure?" John asked again, concerned. All he received in response was a terse nod. "Dean, I promise, Sammy is going to be fine, now what is it?"

"I'm fine," Dean answered again.

John still didn't believe him, but he decided he would let it go for the time being. If Dean wasn't willing to open up to him, then he wouldn't force the issue. Dean would talk to him when he felt ready.

A wave of exhaustion swept over John, a reminder that he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. He rubbed his eyes, not wanting to give into his fatigue quite yet.

Dean glanced over towards his father. "You should get some sleep, Dad," Dean advised.

John met his eyes and smiled. "Yeah," he admitted, "I probably should." Dean bringing up his exhaustion actually made him feel better; Dean couldn't be too upset if he was still observing what was going on around him. It was the attribute of Dean's that John was most proud of. No matter what, Dean put himself second to look out for his family.

But then again, it would probably get him killed someday.

_'No,' _John told himself._ 'That won't happen. Dean's too smart to allow that to happen.'_

Putting his hand on Dean's shoulder, John stood up. "I'm going to get a few hours of sleep." Squeezing Dean's shoulder, he added, "Will you watch after Sammy for me?" He asked, already knowing he would receive an affirmative answer.

With just his sleeping brother to keep him company, Dean was alone. Suddenly the silence began to eat away at him. His thoughts became too loud and he was forced to stop shoving them aside.

_'What have you done?'_

_'What were you thinking?'_

_'Watch over Sammy? What difference could _you_ make?'_

_'When did it get so quiet in here?'_

_'What is wrong with you?'_

_"But it felt so... releasing..."_

_'Well that is definitely not a normal reaction.'_

Dean did not want to take the silence any longer. He couldn't take it any longer, but he could not wake Sammy. It was his responsibility to watch over him.

A solution came to Dean in the form of Sam's small red portable CD player. Grabbing the headphones and wishing he didn't prefer tapes over CDs, Dean resigned himself to listening to some of Sammy's music. He didn't actually like it much, but anything beat the stifling silence. Dean checked to disc Sam already had in the player. It was _Nine Inch Nails_' album The Downward Spiral. Dean hit the shuffle button and began listening to the wholly unappealing songs.

After about fifteen minutes of listening to the disc, Dean decided that although he didn't entirely agree with his brother's taste in music, it wasn't all too terrible once you tried it out. Not that he would ever admit that to Sam, of course. It was then that one song in particular, the last one on the CD, caught his attention.

_I hurt myself today to see if I still feel._

_I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real._

_The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting,_

_Try to kill it all away, but I remember everything._

_What have I become? My sweetest friend,_

_Everyone I know goes away in the end._

_And you could have it all, my empire of dirt,_

_I will let you down, I will make you hurt._

_I wear this crown of shit upon my liar's chair._

_Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair._

_Beneath the stains of time the feelings disappear._

_You are someone else. I am still right here._

_What have I become? My sweetest friend,_

_Everyone I touch goes away in the end._

_But you could have it all, my empire of dirt,_

_I will let you down, I will make you hurt._

_If I could start again a million miles away,_

_I would keep myself,_

_I would find a way._

Dean went back to listen to the song again, but he didn't even get through the first line of lyrics before Sammy began moving about in his sleep.

Taking off the headphones, Dean stood up next to Sam's bed and placed his hand on the young boy's shoulder. At the touch Sammy's body suddenly jerked to the side as if he was trying to get away.

As Dean grabbed his younger brother's body to stop his jerking and thrashing, Sammy awoke, sitting up with a loud yell.

"Sam! Sammy, come on, it's me, you need to calm down, it's okay..."

Out of breath, Sammy glanced around the room, as if he were looking for something. His eyes met Dean's, and Dean saw the fear and alarm in his brother's eyes.

"There's nothing here, you're safe here Sammy, it's okay," Dean whispered. He placed one hand on Sam's shoulder and the other on his back. Physical contact usually helped to calm Sammy down whenever he was upset.

The brothers heard footsteps from the hallways, and both turned just in time to see their father coming into the room. "Are you two alright?"

"Yeah," Sammy spoke up as he pressed his hand to his stomach, where a stinging pain had developed. The action caught John's eye, and he watched as his son pulled his hand away. It was covered in blood.

"Some of your stitches must have been pulled out," John said quickly before either of his sons could become alarmed. "I'll fix it, hold on." John then left the room to go downstairs and get Aaron's suture kit.

Once the two boys were alone again, Dean asked, "Are you sure you're okay?" On a small table on the other side of Sam's bed was a roll of paper towels. Dean reached over and grabbed them. Pulling a few sheets off, Dean helped Sammy lie down and began to apply pressure to the wound.

Sammy nodded. "Yeah, it was just a dream." Dean still wasn't reassured though. _'You have got to be kidding me,'_ he thought to himself. _'Dad asks you to watch over him and you manage to screw it up after the first fifteen minutes.'_

John came back into the small bedroom holding the suture kit, with Aaron following close behind him. Dean stepped back from his brother to let the older hunters take over.

"I can do the sutures myself," John protested weakly, sounding amused that Aaron was taking charge of the situation.

Aaron raised his eyebrows. "Johnny, have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like a dead man walking. Now stop whining and give me the kit."

Relenting, John handed the kit over to his friend. The Winchesters watched as Nielson expertly took care of Sammy's wounds. He finished relatively quickly, and, catching Sam's eye, he stated, "Finished." He then added, "And last night when I told you to bug your father to come back, I meant for you to wait a few weeks, at least. But hey, your idea works too."

"I try not to do things half way," Sammy answered. Aaron grinned and left the room, wanting to give the family a moment alone.

The twelve-year-old looked about as exhausted as John felt. John told him, "You should probably get some rest, son." Both of them knew that it wasn't a request.

Dean saw a conflict going on in John's head. John wanted to stay and make sure Sammy was alright, but he also wanted to get some sleep, especially since Sam wouldn't be awake much longer. "Aaron was right, Dad," Dean pointed out. "You look like a dead man walking."

Once Sammy was asleep and John was gone, Dean sat in the chair he had been in before and buried his head in his hands. Then he quickly looked up, keeping an eye on the sleeping boy in front of him. He made a promise to himself. _'No more screw-ups.'_

_Author's Note- Here's chapter four, and I promise (for real this time) that chapter five will not take as long! Also I'll probably go back and update this chapter because I'm not a hundred percent satisfied with it, but I won't make any significant changes to the plot or anything. Please review and let me know what you think of the chapter! _


End file.
